


Running Against The Wind

by blackmariahlee



Series: We've Won the Battle, But the War Is Still Going [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smoking, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 02:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18002102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmariahlee/pseuds/blackmariahlee
Summary: Steve Rogers has never run away from a fight. Until now. Now his enemies are not without, but within. And he has no idea how to fight that. Nor does he know how to fight these growing feelings for Tony Stark.





	Running Against The Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Original characters are brief and minor! And Bruce makes an appearance! The title for this could also be, "In Which I Can't Write Slow Burn". All of you amazing people out there that write the best slow burn fics are my heroes. I don't have that kind of patience...

Steve breathed in the chilled, early morning air. He almost missed the sting of it in his lungs. Almost. He loved the city like this. He could almost pretend that nothing had changed. Almost. Bright lights were hard to avoid in New York City. Even at this hour. It seemed fitting that Steve found himself running the streets of Manhattan. The city that never sleeps meet the man who slept too long. So long that he had found himself in a new world. A world where everything was different and yet the same. 

The streets were familiar, laid out in a grid that he had memorized before he had an eidetic memory. Some of the old buildings remained standing right where he remembered them. But then there were things straight out of an old science fiction serial. Not least of all some of his new friends. A demi-god from another planet, a real-life Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and of course, Iron Man. Together they had fought aliens coming through a wormhole in space led by a man with a magic spear. 

Steve recognized pieces of the city just as he recognized pieces of himself. But he couldn’t fit himself into a space anymore. Maybe he was missing pieces. Or maybe he had too many. Or the pieces had been warped by age and ice and pain. He didn’t belong in the dingy, bare apartment in Brooklyn. Both too familiar and strange. Even when he had seen the place, he thought it was too big. But then realized how small it really was. Even smaller without Ma or Bucky. And he didn’t really feel like he belonged in Avengers Tower either. Sure, Tony had welcomed him in and given him an entire floor of a building but... 

He picked up the pace as he neared the Brooklyn Bridge. He had never run for exercise before now. When he was younger it had been because he couldn’t. And then when he could run, it was because he had to. Steve had started running when he woke from the ice. Everything was too small and too confining, too loud and too bright, too, too, too... So, he ran. Ran until he could finally feel an ache in his muscles. He had no idea how far he had run that first time. But afterward Fury called him Forrest Gump for a week. Steve did not understand the reference. 

While the “state of the art” gym in the Tower was impressive, he hadn’t brought himself to use it yet. Much like that apartment in Brooklyn, it felt too big and empty and small and confining. Running on a treadmill reminded him too much of the experiments Dr. Erskine’s colleagues wanted him to do. And it didn’t have the company of Johnny or Billy or Mac. Bruce was more about yoga and stretching and meditation. All too slow for Steve’s racing mind. And while Tony had given plenty of his time to Steve lately, he hadn’t been up for any gym time. Clint was still in recovery with SHIELD and Natasha was pretty busy herself. Steve seemed to be the only one drifting in this nebulous space of in-between. Purgatory, darlin’, his mother’s voice reminded him. 

Steve reached back in his memories to church on Sundays. Purgatory. Limbo. A waiting place. Not hell but not heaven either. Not dead but not really alive. Maybe he had been in purgatory for the last 70 years. Maybe he had never made it out of the ice. Steve wasn’t sure if this made him feel better or worse. And he didn’t know how to feel about that either. It probably wasn’t a good sign. He should drag himself to a church. Could hear the damn priest now. How long since your last confession? Seventy-six years. Not since Ma died. 

He slowed to a light jog as he came up on the gym. And was surprised to see Johnny standing outside the door. Coffee in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Johnny was a Vietnam vet and had started the gym with his father, Mac, after he came home. Mac had fought in the European theatre of World War II. He had seen Normandy from a safe distance. Steve wished he could say the same. These people knew him as Steve and they understood what it meant to survive a war. 

“You’re up early.” Johnny took a drag from his cigarette and offered it to Steve. He took it and held it for a moment before he took a drag himself. 

“Funny, I was about to say the same about you.” Steve handed the cigarette back to Johnny. “What are you doin’ here?” 

“My gym, tough guy. Thought maybe you’d like some company. You been comin’ earlier every damn day. Might as well move in.” Johnny held open the door for him and Steve ducked in. The lights were already on and, thank God, coffee was brewing. 

“Can always use good company.” Steve headed for the coffee first. Not like the monstrosity in the kitchen of the Tower. He poured himself a cup and took a long drink. Still not quite the same as the burned shit they had on the field. But the taste could still bring back the sound of an Army camp about to be on the move. 

“You ever gonna talk about it?” Johnny leaned against the wall beside Steve. 

“Talk about what?” 

“Why you keep running to this gym all the way from Manhattan at three in the morning to break my punching bags and drink my shit coffee.” 

“Better than Buck could ever make.” Steve downed the rest of the coffee and headed to the aforementioned bag. 

“High praise.” Johnny followed him across the gym. “Look, Steve, it ain’t like we don’t all appreciate you hanging around here. We do. Pop loves it. And I know the kids get a kick outta showin’ you YouTube videos and Twitter. But you gotta admit that this ain’t exactly normal.” Steve rested a hand on the bag and kept his back to Johnny. 

“Is this you talkin’ or is it Fury?” 

“...He may have stopped by.” Johnny at least had the decency to sound apologetic. Steve gave the bag one, good punch and sent it across the room, split at the seam. 

“What the hell does he want from me?” 

“Kid, you know what he wants. He wants Captain America. But he ain’t gonna get that without Steve Rogers. And he can’t have you until...well, until you got yourself.” 

“I killed aliens from outer space, fought a demi-god, wrangled a team of super humans, and did it all without his direction or supervision. I’m fine. He wants Captain America, he can ask me himself.” Steve picked up another bag from the floor and hung it up. The touch to his shoulder was a surprise. 

“Steve, we’ve all been there. We all seen shit nobody should have to see. And we all did things that nobody should have to do. You know how many nights I laid awake, shitfaced, planning my suicide? Too many. I still have guilt about makin’ it out of there when so many people didn’t. And we all had to work through it. You can’t just push it all down and pretend it happened 70 years ago to someone else. It happened to you and it happened six weeks ago.” 

Steve rested his head against the punching bag. He was tired of hearing this crap. When would everyone just drop it already? This was his life and his shit and he didn’t need everyone telling him how fucked up he was. As if he didn’t know. Like he wasn’t the one with the perfect memory, reliving it all over and over again. 

“And what am I supposed to do about that? It happened. It’s over.” He wished his voice hadn’t trembled there. “Everyone keeps pushing me to live in this century and learn the technology and move forward. But in the next breath, telling me to go to a shrink and relive the whole damn thing over again. They can’t change it. I can’t change it, I can’t forget it, I can’t--” Steve stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m fine, Johnny. Tell Fury that I’m fine. And next time he wants to tell me something, he can tell me himself.” 

“...All right, Steve. If you say so.” Johnny lit another cigarette and held it to Steve. “But I think you should just go. This guy is persistent and he’ll keep going to people until he finds someone that’ll make you listen.” 

“Yeah, well he’d have to raise the dead for that.” Steve took a long drag off the cigarette. “Sorry, Johnny. I shouldn’t take this shit out on you.” 

“That’s what the bags are for, right?” Johnny laughed as he poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. “Don’t sweat it, Steve. Like I said, we all been there. You take your time. I can tell that guy to go fuck himself.” 

“Thanks, Johnny.” Steve finished the cigarette Johnny had given to him. He had never been much of a smoker. Especially before the war. But sometimes it helped to calm his nerves. Probably all in his head. But wasn’t everything these days? He sighed and dropped the butt to the floor. 

Steve turned his attention back to the punching bag. Maybe he should try and get some sleep tonight. He wasn’t usually like this. It wasn’t Johnny’s fault that Fury wanted him to see a therapist. He wondered if Fury had convinced Tony to talk to him about it last night. Damn, was he so transparent that even Nick Fury could see Steve wanted something more from Tony? He hit the bag harder than he had meant to. No, Tony didn’t listen to Fury about anything. Their late night talk had been organic, if a little bizarre. 

Christ, Tony. What the hell was Steve gonna do about that? Tony was the reason he was here this early. He hadn’t slept in about 24 hours. Not since Tony had gone to bed the night before. That conversation had been too indulgent. Steve should have kept a safe but friendly distance. Physically and emotionally. But he hadn’t. He had let Tony get too close. And now he was paying for it. Like he hadn’t paid for it since he was a teenager. 

When he tried to sleep the last couple nights, when he closed his eyes, it was Tony. Tony leaning in to kiss him, Tony touching the nape of his neck, Tony, Tony, Tony. And there went bag number two. Fuck. He could feel Johnny’s eyes on him but thankfully he said nothing. Steve stooped and picked up a third bag, hanging it up. 

Breathe, darlin’. You’re all right. His mother’s voice when she would hold him through a coughing fit. He took a deep breath. 

Just breathe, Stevie. Bucky’s lazy drawl as he rubbed Steve’s back. Another deep breath. 

Breathe, Steven. Peggy’s calm, sharp, bright voice before another mission to take down Hydra. One more. Steve closed his eyes for one last breath before tackling the bag again. 

Breathe, honey. Tony’s voice. 

Steve groaned and pressed his forehead against the punching bag. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was bad. This was really, truly bad. Even as a teenager, Steve had never quite wanted someone this badly. And it pained him to think about it but he hadn’t even wanted Peggy this way. He hardly knew Tony but he wanted him so bad it hurt. 

“Steve? You all right?” 

“...Yeah, I’m fine. 

“Kid, maybe you should go home and try to sleep. You remember sleep right?” 

“Maybe.” Steve leaned back from the bag. He knew he wouldn’t sleep. But he couldn’t stay here and keep smashing Johnny’s bags either. “Thanks, Johnny. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Could take a day off ya know. I won’t be offended.” 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

 

“Sir?” JARVIS startled Steve as he stepped into the elevator. “Mr. Stark would like you to join him in the gym this morning if you are agreeable.” Steve hit the back of his head against the elevator wall. “Shall I tell him that you are going to rest?” Even JARVIS wanted Steve to go to sleep. Did he look as bone tired as he felt? 

“No, I’ll meet him there. Which floor?” Steve knew this was a bad idea. He had been running from Tony Stark for the last 36 hours. But it was either face the man and maybe get his mind off his other demons or lie awake and try not to think about how good Tony’s calloused hands would feel on other parts of his body. 

“Allow me, Captain.” The elevator started moving and Steve had to remind himself to breathe. God, why did it have to be Tony Stark? It seemed like he was destined to only want what he couldn’t have. And he could not have Tony. The man was in a committed relationship and they worked together in a fairly stressful work environment. Neither of them could afford to be distracted by the well-being of their boyfriend in the middle of a fight. There were too many reasons for why he couldn’t pursue Tony. 

“Good morning, Cap.” But there was a growing list of reasons why he really wanted to. Tony greeted him with a cup of coffee and a tired smile. His hair reminded Steve a bit of a mad scientist. Like Tony had run his hands through it a few times too many. It stood up in all directions and dammit if Steve didn’t want to run his hands through it too. Tony was clearly tired but his smile reached his dark brown eyes and Steve couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Morning, Tony. You’re up early.” Steve took the coffee offered to him and tried not to notice that their hands brushed. 

“Actually, I’m up late. Haven’t been to bed yet.” Tony stretched and yawned as if to prove his point. “Been working all night but I hit a wall. Figured some physical activity would let my brain wander and the answer will come to me.” 

“You know, sleep could help with that too.” Steve waited for the lightning to strike him. 

“Too restless for that.” Tony turned and headed into the gym. “So, soldier, wanna test your strength against superior punching bags?” 

“I dunno. What happened to all that tough talk a couple weeks ago?” 

“Tough talk?” Tony turned and raised an eyebrow. Steve walked toward him and smirked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Put on the suit. We’ll go a few rounds.” He really had not meant for it to come out as suggestive as he was afraid that it had. Oh, this was a bad idea. Tony raised his other brow. 

“...You think you’re up for it, soldier?” Tony moved into his personal space and, much like this moment on the Helicarrier, Steve didn’t know if they were talking about fighting anymore. Fondue, fighting, fucking...all the same to him apparently. 

“I’m always up for a challenge.” Steve felt like he was doing his best statue impression. He didn’t want to move away from Tony but he also couldn’t get closer. Purgatory. His mother was always right. 

“I guess we’ll see about that.” Tony stepped closer and Steve held his breath. This was ridiculous. And stupid. And Tony looked gorgeous in his black tank top and mussed hair and challenging smirk. “Lucky for you, I don’t have a working suit right now.” 

“Mm, lucky for me.” Steve stepped closer before moving to the side. “Always next time.” He moved to the punching bag hanging from the ceiling. It was nothing like the old, beat up ones at Johnny’s. This was covered in sleek, soft black leather. Steve ran a hand up the surface and knew if he broke this bag, he might not be able to replace it. 

“It’s got built in sensors. Can track and record your movements and how much weight you’re putting behind your punches.” 

“I think that might be cheating.” 

“Cheating? You think that I would use that information to try and best you in a fight?” Steve turned to see Tony put his hand to his heart and shake his head. “I am shocked that you think so little of me, Cap.” 

“It’s what I would do.” 

“Are you telling me that Captain America cheats?” 

“Not cheating. Strategic advantage.” Steve smiled over his shoulder at Tony. 

“Wow. I don’t even know how to feel about that.” Tony shook his head and got on one of the treadmills. 

“If it makes you feel better, they were Nazis.” 

“Oddly, it does.” Tony started the treadmill and Steve took that as a signal that the witty banter portion of the interaction was over. He turned his attention to the bag again. The sound of the treadmill whirring in the background was oddly calming. Maybe because he knew it was Tony behind him. Steve took his wraps from his sweatpants pockets and started wrapping his hands. The sun was good and warm now as it rose over the city. Steve had tried his hand at capturing the way it changed the city. But his sketches always changed to the view from his old apartment in Brooklyn. 

Steve placed his hand on the bag and took a deep breath. Tony had started running on the treadmill. The sound of the machine combined with the steady thud of Tony’s feet as he ran. Steve listened for a few seconds before landing the first blow, timed perfectly to Tony hitting the treadmill. He should try and pace himself. No need to go breaking the brand new, fancy punching bag. Keep pace with Tony and it should be fine. 

Tony. Therein lied the issue though. The whole reason Steve had jumped out of bed and ran from the Tower like it had spontaneously combusted. Maybe it had. He had found a life preserver floating in the freezing cold water of the Artic. But he knew that if he held on, they would both drown. He had to find his own way back to shore. Steve did his best to ignore the sound of the treadmill and the man on it. Gotta find his own pace and rhythm. 

He did his best to lose himself in the punching bag. It was difficult this morning. His mood was already questionable. He had too many things on his mind. Steve could still taste the cigarette he had shared with Johnny. Cigarettes and coffee. They had all lived on that during the war. Jesus, why was this so hard? Why couldn’t he just get over it? And why the hell were there planes flying over? They hadn’t requested any damn air support. 

Steve slammed his fist into the punching bag and sent it flying across the gym. He stared at it for a moment, bewildered. The noise stopped suddenly and there was a voice that took it’s place. It took him a moment to realize he was shaking. Fuck...this was getting harder, not easier. Steve tried to take a breath and couldn’t. Air wouldn’t fill his lungs and his diaphragm wasn’t cooperating. It felt like an asthma attack. But that couldn’t be right. Was the serum failing? 

“Cap? Steve? You okay? JARVIS, what’s it look like?” It sounded muffled, like he was under water. Was he? Was he back under the ice? Or had he taken a bullet? Possible collapsed lung. Where was he? When was he? 

“The captain appears to be suffering from a panic attack brought on by severe post-traumatic stress disorder, Sir.” 

“Shit. Okay. Steve? You gotta at least answer me. Look at me maybe?” The voice moved to the front of him and Steve stared. He was blurry and gasping for air. No, wait. That was Steve. “Come on, Cap. You gotta breathe for me.” 

“Shall I alert Dr. Banner?” 

“Yeah, yeah. He keeps telling me he isn’t that kind of doctor but...yeah, call Bruce. Tell him to hurry but don’t break anything.” A warm hand wrapped around his wrist. “Pulse is rapid but strong.” Strong, not thready. So not a bullet. “Steve, honey? It’s Tony. You’re in Avengers Tower with me. It’s 2012. You’re safe. You’re safe here, Steve. I’ve got you, honey. Just breathe for me.” Tony? Steve blinked several times until his vision cleared. Tony came into focus finally and the gym around them. Steve gasped in a deep breath. 

“Tony?” 

“I’m right here, Steve. You’re okay.” Tony took Steve’s hands in his and squeezed. “Let’s sit down, okay?” Steve nodded and Tony lead him over to a window bench. 

“Tony? Is he okay?” Bruce jogged into the room. “JARVIS said it was urgent.” 

“Well, he was freaking out. So yeah, it was urgent.” Tony gently pushed Steve down onto the bench and released his hands. Steve looked down at his hands, still shaking. 

“Panic attack?” Bruce walked over to them and crouched down in front of Steve. 

“That’s what J thinks. I don’t know. One minute he was going at the punching bag and the next...I don’t know.” 

“Hey, Steve.” Bruce gave him a gentle smile. His hair was haphazard and his glasses were crooked. “How’re you feeling?” 

“’M’okay.” 

“Can you tell me where you are?” Bruce took his wrist and looked at his watch. 

“Tower.” 

“Do you know who I am?” 

“Bruce. Tony. ...2012.” 

“Good. That’s good, Steve.” Bruce gave his hand a squeeze. “Can you tell me what happened?” 

“Don’t know.” Steve looked up at Tony who was watching him, his arms crossed over his chest. The light from the arc reactor was still visible. 

“JARVIS thinks that you might have had a panic attack. From post-traumatic stress. Those are usually triggered by something. Can you think of what might have caused it?” 

“...Treadmill. Sounded like...planes overhead.” 

“Okay. It’s okay. Steve?” Steve looked to Bruce. “When was the last time you slept?” 

“Last night.” Bruce raised an eyebrow but Steve kept his mouth shut. Now that he was breathing normally again and had a better handle on the situation, he wasn’t about to volunteer information that was gonna get him tossed into a SHIELD psych ward with Clint. 

“JARVIS? When did Steve last get some sleep?” Bruce kept his eyes on Steve. 

“Captain Rogers last slept for approximately three hours two nights ago.” 

“Steve...even you have your limits. You need to sleep.” 

“I’m fine. I appreciate your concern but--” Steve started to stand. 

“It’s not just my concern. Everyone is concerned, Steve.” 

“...Fury pay you a visit too?” 

“No. I don’t need Nick Fury to tell me that one of my roommates is depressed out of his mind with PTSD aggravating the symptoms.” Bruce crossed his arms over his chest. “I get why you’re wary about Fury. I am too. But I’m not Fury. And neither is Tony. You can trust us, Steve.” 

“I’m not--” Steve stopped himself. He was getting irritated. Deep breath. “I really am fine. I just need to eat breakfast.” 

“Steve--” Bruce started but Tony cut him off. 

“Sure, Cap. Let’s get some breakfast.” Tony gave Steve a smile. It was strained and tired but genuine. Steve glanced between Tony and Bruce but finally nodded. “All right. I hope you can cook cuz I sure as shit can’t. You coming, Bruce?” 

“I’ll pass. I have some more work to do. Save me some burned toast.” Bruce smiled at Steve and patted him on the shoulder. “We’re here for you. No judgement. What kind of team are we without our fearless leader?” 

“Thanks, Bruce.” Steve nodded. Bruce gave his shoulder a squeeze and walked out of the gym. Steve and Tony stood in silence for a couple minutes before Tony spoke. 

“I couldn’t take a shower for the longest time without having a full-blown panic attack. You never think of the little things. I tilted my head back into the water. Thought the reactor had failed and shrapnel was burrowing into my heart. Nightmares for months. Pepper asked what it looked like in space and I...” Tony shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t remember running from the room but I did. If we didn’t have baggage, we couldn’t do this job. Name me one happy superhero.” 

“Guess you have a point.” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets. The wraps were still on them. He would take them off later. 

“I know you don’t wanna see a therapist. And I get that. Believe me. But...Bruce is right. We’re here for you. You can talk to us. We care about you.” 

“Thanks, Tony.” 

“Can I hug you?” 

“Please.” Steve wanted to take the word back as soon as it left his lips. Tony didn’t say anything, just moved into his space and wrapped his arms around Steve. 

“I know this is gonna sound like cliched bullshit but...this gets better. And you’ll get through this. We all will.” Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist. This felt a lot different from their hug the other night. Maybe because they were standing this time. And Steve could feel the warm metal of the arc reactor pressed to his chest. 

“I don’t know, Tony. I’ve fought bullies and Nazis and aliens... I don’t know how to fight this.” Tony pulled back and took Steve’s face in his hands again. 

“Hey, Steve Rogers doesn’t run from a fight. I know I’m not Bucky or Peggy but I’ve got your back. Okay?” Tony rubbed his cheekbones with his thumbs and Steve closed his eyes. 

“I don’t wanna put all of this on you, Tony. That isn’t fair. I gotta deal with this.” 

“Yeah, you do. You gotta deal with your shit and I gotta deal with mine and Bruce has to deal with his. We all have shit. But maybe what we need is each other. You jump, I jump.” 

“Jump?” Steve opened his eyes and Tony grinned at him. 

“Sorry, Cap. From another movie we’ll make you suffer through.” His smile faded. Tony moved his hands into Steve’s hair and Steve tilted his head into the touch. 

“Tony?” 

“Yeah, Steve?” Steve looked down at Tony and honestly had no idea what he wanted to say. Nothing he could think of was remotely acceptable. He wanted to wrap himself up in Tony. Lay down and just sleep with his warm presence and embrace. Cross those few, too few inches between them and taste the coffee on his tongue. Instead, Steve reached up and laid his hands over Tony’s and squeezed. 

“Thank you.” Steve closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Tony’s. 

“...You’re welcome, Steve.” Tony tightened his grip in his hair and for a moment, Steve wondered if Tony wanted to kiss him too. But no, of course not. Tony Stark is a brilliant, successful engineer with a beautiful girlfriend. What would he need to waste time with Steve for? Tony was a friend, a good friend. And Steve just needed to be okay with that and let this whole, stupid crush go. Just breathe and let it go. 

“Steve?” He opened his eyes and God, Tony was so close. His warm, brown eyes were watching Steve and he couldn’t remember any of the stupid things he had just thought. 

“Yeah, Tony?” 

“Tell me to stay.” Tony pressed his forehead against Steve’s shoulder. “Tell me stay here. Tell me you need me and you can’t possibly do this by yourself.” 

“...I do need you, Tony.” In ways that Steve couldn’t begin to comprehend. “Don’t leave. Stay.” He hated himself. He really, truly did. “Where would you go?” 

“Malibu.” It was muffled against his shoulder, but Steve heard it too clearly. “Pepper says I need to go back before the end of the year. She wants me to show up to more meetings and take a more active role in the company. I’m supposed to meet her there next week.” Steve gently lifted Tony’s head from his shoulder and repeated the touch Tony had used on him, holding his face in his hands. 

All the words that Steve wanted to say got caught in his throat. His mind was racing almost as quickly as his pulse. Tony wanted to stay. Steve wanted him to stay. He didn’t know what any of it meant and he didn’t really care. Tony needed to stay here. This was his home, their home. He couldn’t just leave Steve and Bruce and Natasha and Clint. Tony had to stay. It was selfish and greedy and terrible but Steve couldn’t stay alone in purgatory forever. Steve leaned forward and pressed his lips to Tony’s. 

“Stay.”


End file.
